Ungracefulness poems on Hello Poetry

Jodie Bee Jul 2013

Forgive my ungracefulness,
my awkwardness when I wave my hand,
how my bones crack when I walk
and how my movements remain ungainly.

Lover of Words Nov 2012

I'm Not Perfect to Love

I'm not some movie screen actress,
With that perfect frame fit for a queen,
Yeah,
I got my loads of imperfections.
But if you like this face and my ungracefulness,
Maybe the stars above ordained us to be more then friends,
For I got some meaty thighs,
And I'm not a 00,
And my hair has a possessed demon living in it,
Yeah I'm messy and it's unbelievable that you wanna even be with me,
But that's a nice thought,
To know that your crushing hard,
And you'll let me snuggle in your arms on occasion,
So maybe I'm too stubborn now to let you in,
Or I don't see what is so ever amazing about a girl so messed up in her head,
And your so nice and sweet and ever present,
Gosh I just want us to be together,
Maybe though if we were,
You'd finally realize how clingy I can get,
Or how the wounds in my heart have't healed quite yet.
I just don't want you or I to ever get so hurt,
Because you should know by know,
I'm so far from your idea of perfect

Lyla Oct 2014

What I know

They say “write what you know”

I want to write about love and beauty, but I only know ugly.
No heart has ever belong to me,
no hands have ever sparked at a touch.
Ugly lives with creative minds,
given courtesy of dreamy teen rom coms.

I want to write about fun family trips and birthdays'.
Joyous days spent frolicking on the beach,
but I only know secrets, shouting, spite.
Love that should be given as sweet as honey,
yet this family bee sting is laced with bitterness.

I would love to write about the moments of content.
wrapped in the light of the moon with someone,
breathing in synchronisation.
To tremor when I stand around you,
my heart racing to keep up with my shaky infatuation.

So i don’t write about these things.
I write about awkward fumblings,
ungracefulness of my ungainly movements.
dinners with no conversation,
the dullness of an everyday flat life.

I write what i know.

#sad #life #know #dull #boring #flat #ordinary

Pitch Hiker May 2018

Can't Be Honest Sometimes

I just planned on quitting
I readied myself to give up
I thought about killing myself
I was ready  With each step climbing down the tree
I begged to slip
Or a branch to break
Stepping on all the thin and dead ones
But non broke
So I climbed it again and jumped  I thought I was dead
I wanted to be dead
I didn’t feel anything
Not even cold
I think I was asleep because it was getting
Dark when I awoke
I left in the a.m.
I wasn’t dead
It wasn’t my time to die
Other wise I would be
I couldn’t get up for awhile
My back sore with little sticks stuck in me
My head started to pound
I couldn’t keep my eyes open
Sound started to come back
But all I could hear was the soft water
The world maintaining its grace
During my act of ungracefulness
My hands looked bleached
I couldn’t feel
I got to my feet
Started my walk home
Recollected what I had done
What happened
And laughed
Its not my time to die
So Im no longer quitting
I don’t wish to give up
And Ive got to make up a hella good story
When I walk through the door
I know it would ****
If I were honest
So I will speak only of my
Clumsiness
That always works

— The End —